


Lionheart

by footprintsinthesnow



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Coming of Age, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, i will update the tags as more chapters come out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22263910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/footprintsinthesnow/pseuds/footprintsinthesnow
Summary: Loneliness was always a part of Riza's life. Then, Roy Mustang became her father's student.
Relationships: Berthold Hawkeye & Riza Hawkeye, Berthold Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	Lionheart

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so this fic will either be 2 or 3 chapters depending on how long the rest of it ends up being. i will do my best to update this in a reasonable amount of time :) i'll also update the rating as necessary lol, but for now i think it works.

Roy Mustang, as she learned he was called, arrived in early January with nothing but a small, beaten leather suitcase and the clothes on his back. No one had told her he was coming, but that wasn’t a surprise. Her father only told her things if he decided she needed to know - apparently, this wasn’t one of those things. Yet, in a strange way, it almost didn’t matter that he was there. There was no fanfare for his arrival, no warm welcomes or special accommodations. He integrated himself into their household discreetly; within a few short weeks, his presence had become a piece of the household’s routine.

He woke early, much earlier than either Riza or her father. The sounds of him stumbling down the hall and into the bathroom would make her stir from her sleep. A few minutes later, he would emerge and let out a deep groan - stretching, she assumed - before hurrying down the stairs and going out the front door. She wasn’t sure what he did out there until a few days after his arrival, when she peeked out the window and saw him jogging away down the path to the fields. 

When she returned home from school, the house would seem empty until she approached her father’s office and heard the hushed voices inside. She had never been able to hear anything until Roy came. Her father rarely allowed people in their home, and he never allowed anyone in his office - not even her. She wondered why this boy, a mere stranger only a year or so older than herself, had been able to breach that strict barrier. Part of her wanted to feel jealous, but, in a way, she was glad to just have something to remind her that she was not alone in the house. It was nice to have company, even if she couldn’t be a part of it. 

\----

“Hey, you.”

Riza startled away from the book in her lap and rapidly turned around to find Roy looking at her. 

“No need to be so jumpy,” he said, nonchalant. She didn’t like that. He sounded full of himself, a little bit mean, almost like one of the boys from her school. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” she said, folding the corner of the page before closing her book.

Roy smirked and circled around to sit across from her. He slumped back in the seat, legs spread wide with one foot slung up and over his other knee. His arms crossed were across his chest almost defiantly, as though he was preparing to challenge her for an offense she wasn’t aware she had committed. She couldn’t decide what to make of him. He was either obnoxiously confident, or just a boy who was desperately pretending to be. Regardless, it was unpleasant. 

“Your name is Riza, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Roy Mustang.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I heard my father talking about you.”

He studied her for a moment. “How old are you?”

“I’m twelve.”

“You’re tall for your age,” he mumbled. “I’m fourteen.”

She nodded and mustered up a small smile. 

“Do you know anything about alchemy?” he asked.

“No,” she replied awkwardly, wondering where this impromptu interview was headed.

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t think so. It’s never interested me very much.”

“I see,” he said. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

His shoulders stiffened. “Sure.”

“Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Um.” He fidgeted in his seat, biting his lip before blurting out, “Do you not like me?”

“Huh?”

“You’re always avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?”

“You… no,” she stuttered, shaking her head.

“Are you sure? My aunt says I can sometimes act like an ass, and I don’t want to act like that here. I’m trying to impress my teacher, and I don’t think he’ll like me if I don’t get on well with you.”

“Um. I guess that’s true. But you haven’t done anything.”

“Promise?” he exhaled, slumping back into the cushions. 

“I promise,” she said. It was the latter, she now determined - any confidence he possessed was nothing more than an act, and it shattered quickly and easily.

“Then… will you talk to me?”

“If you want me to.”

“Yeah, I want that,” he said as he jumped up from the seat. “I know I get to talk to your dad, but…”

Riza tilted her neck, curious. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “I’d better get back to studying. Your dad told me I needed to get through those notes before dinner.”

She wasn’t sure exactly what that entailed, as she had never even set foot in her father’s office. Clearly, Roy wasn’t aware of that, or he just didn’t deem that fact to be of any importance to him. 

“Good luck,” she said, hoping it was enough to satisfy him. 

Evidently, it was, as he put his hands on his hips and beamed at her. “Thanks. See you later,” he said cheerfully, waving as he meandered out of her sight.

Tiredly, she picked up her book again. She tried to read, but found her mind running in circles, replaying their conversation. Roy Mustang. He was certainly odd. Awkward and a bit cagey, but clearly intelligent - he had to be, otherwise her father wouldn’t have agreed to take him on as a student. Still, unusual as he was, he had wanted to talk to her. More than that, he wanted her to talk to him, too. No one had ever asked to hear what she had to say, or even stopped to consider that she might have something to say to begin with. Maybe, she thought, spending time around him wouldn’t be so bad. 

Sure enough, as the weeks and months wore on, she found that keeping her word to Roy was easier than expected. He could be bothersome at times, but he was earnest in his efforts to talk to her. Oftentimes, he was even sweet and engaging.

Although she would never admit it, she liked being around him. 

It wasn’t hard to enjoy their time together. Everything, no matter how small or meaningless, just felt good with him. They told each other jokes and goofed around when her father wasn’t watching. Once a week, her father sent them into town to buy groceries at the market; while in town, they would secretly visit the other shops to catch a glimpse of what was being sold. When the weather was warm, they played in the yard. Roy taught her how to play catch and hit a ball with a bat, and she taught him some of the games she saw people playing in the schoolyard. Some nights, if her father went to bed earlier than normal, they would play a game of chess in the living room. Roy’s aunt had shown him how to play when he was younger, and Riza picked up the rules within a few days. Soon, much to Roy’s chagrin, she was able to beat him with ease. 

One night, a year or so after they first spoke, they sat by the fire, deeply immersed in a game of chess that had no obvious leader. Roy stared intently at the board, hand hovering intensely above his shining black rook. 

“Are you going to do something?” she asked, her voice far smugger than she had intended. 

“Hold your horses,” he hissed. “I’m considering what might happen if I make this move.”

“Better hurry up. Anymore moves like this one and we’ll have to buy a timer.”

“Quit playing mind games. You’re stressing me out.”

“Loser,” she mumbled. 

He huffed and rolled his eyes as he moved his rook to take out her knight. “There, happy?”

“Yeah, because now my queen can take your rook.”

“Fuck.”

“Ha,” she said gleefully, taking out his rook swiftly and picking it up to join the pile of pawns and solitary bishop on her side of the table. 

“Congrats,” he deadpanned. “Let’s take a quick break. I need some water.”

“Feeling the heat, Mustang?”

“You sure are competitive,” he said over the noise of the faucet. 

She wriggled happily and walked to the kitchen to join him.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and laughed. “Hey, Riza.”

“Yes?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

Her face fell. “Oh. Sure.”

“No need to look so worried. I just wanted to ask if… well… are we friends?”

“Um. I don’t know.”

“It’s just… We already talk everyday,” he explained, eyes shining with excitement. “Friends do that.”

“I suppose so.”

“Do you not want to be friends?”

“No, that’s not it. The thing is, no one has ever wanted to be my friend before.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded. “I’m sure you don’t really want to be my friend. You’re just trying to be nice.”

“No, I do. Really. I think you’re cool, for a thirteen year old.”

“Maybe that just means you’re lame for someone your own age,” she replied, trying her best to suppress a smile.

“Then, we’re friends?”

“Yeah. Friends.”

“Good,” he said, downing his water and pawing awkwardly at his chin as some trickled down it. “Now, let’s go finish our game. I can still win this.”

Two hours and several angry rants later, Riza captured Roy’s king. After commending him for his efforts, she went to bed with a smile on her face. She had found her very first friend. That was better than winning any game of chess; for all she cared, he could have beaten her players into the ground. All that mattered was what he had said to her. She knew the good feeling wouldn’t last forever. Good feelings never did. For tonight, however, she could sleep soundly and happily knowing that there was someone out there who cared for her. 

\----

Roy was always moving, she noticed. Even if he didn’t have anywhere to be or anything to do, he moved quickly and purposefully. He walked with his fists clenched, arms swinging, eyes trained intensely ahead. It was funny, if she was being honest, but she would never say so. She knew it wasn’t funny to him. In his mind, there was a good reason for everything he did - the problem was that no one but him knew just what that reason was. 

On that particular winter morning, he stomped around the house with his coat on, mumbling something she couldn’t quite hear. She listened to him from the kitchen, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to see what he was doing as she cleaned the grease from the stove. 

His footsteps came to a halt by the counter. “Riza, do you know where my gloves are?”

“I don’t,” she said, shrugging.

“Dammit.”

She put down her cloth and turned to him. “Sorry. Why are you asking?”

“It’s cold and rainy, and I’m going out.”

“Where do you need to go?”

“I’m going to that farm, the old one up the road.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“It’s abandoned, right?” he continued.

“I think so. We haven’t seen anyone there for years.”

“Perfect,” he said, eyes lighting up. “I was going to go practice some alchemy there.”

“Can’t you practice here?”

Roy’s eyes shifted around the room. “Well, your dad can be a little… selective about what I’m allowed to practice.”

“Oh,” she hummed. “Doesn’t that mean this is something you probably shouldn’t be doing?”

“Are you going to tell him where I’m going?”

“I suppose not,” she said, picking at her sleeve. 

“Then it’s fine.”

“If you say so.”

Roy chuckled and leaned against the counter. “Hey,” he said. “Would you want to come with me?”

“To the farm?”

“Yeah.”

She blinked. “I…”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” he blurted out. “I just thought I could show you some stuff I’ve been working on. You said you didn’t really know anything about alchemy, so I thought you’d think it was cool.”

“I just… my father doesn’t like me to do things like that. He says I might get hurt.”

“It’ll be okay. You’ll be with me, I won’t let anything bad happen.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. It will be fun.”

She frowned, looking down at the ground nervously. “I… I guess I’ll go.”

He smiled and leaped up straight. “Awesome. I’m going to go find those gloves. Get your stuff and we’ll leave in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” she said.

She gathered her things and checked to be sure that her father was still asleep while Roy continued the search for his gloves. When he found them - tucked away at the bottom of his sock drawer - they bundled up and walked out to the porch. 

Roy hastily opened his umbrella and raised it above his head with a sigh of relief. He looked at her as she pulled her hood tightly over her hair. “Do you want to share my umbrella with me?” he asked. “Might stop you from getting drenched.” It only took a stern look for him to know that she wouldn’t accept his help. 

They trudged along the path to the farm in silence. Beside her, Riza could hear the rhythmic tapping of raindrops against Roy’s umbrella. The rain beat heavily against her own face, soaking her skin and leaving a freezing residue that dripped down her cheeks. Around them, the countryside had adopted the distinctly hazy and cool appearance that only came with downpours of this sort.

Shivers coursed down her spine, halting her in her tracks. Roy glanced back at her, but didn’t say anything. He must have known that, whatever advice or assistance he offered her now, she would undoubtedly refuse. He would still try sometimes - the umbrella was proof enough of that - but he understood when to back down. It was odd to think of how well he was coming to know her, but it was gratifying, too. Having someone who understood her felt good. 

She pointed ahead, squinting to stop the rain from getting in her eyes. “There it is.”

They exchanged a glance and broke into a clumsy stride, kicking up heaps of mud behind them as they ran toward shelter. The umbrella wavered and clicked dangerously, and Roy slowed momentarily to close it. “Let’s go,” she yelled back at him, straining to be heard over the wind, and he shoved the umbrella in his bag as he sprinted toward her. 

Roy pulled the barn door open with a grunt and ushered her in. The cold inside still verged towards being intolerable, but the roof had at least held up well enough to keep them dry. There were pieces of old machinery laying around, rusted from years of obvious disuse. The ground was still covered in straw, but  
no one had walked across it for a long time. 

“Wow,” Roy sighed. “This place is crazy.”

“It’s something. Where do you want to go? To do your alchemy, I mean.”

“Hm. Let me see.” He surveyed the room for a minute, then tapped her arm. “Over there. The ground is cleared off. It’ll be better for drawing the circles.”

“Whatever you say.”

For the next few hours she watched him draw shapes and patterns in the dirt. Every so often he would interrupt himself to offer a zealous explanation of what he was attempting before performing it. He didn’t succeed in everything he attempted, and with each failure he would blush furiously and apologize. “I’ll get this eventually,” he told her, and she agreed that it was only a matter of time. Even if she didn’t entirely comprehend what he was doing, she knew that he was talented. There was no doubt about that. By the time they left, he had made several intricate sculptures. One, a dog, he gave to her. 

“You told me once that you wished you had a dog,” he said. “So now you have one.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, admiring the figurine as she turned it over in her hands. “It’s beautiful.”

“You really like it?”

“I do,” she said. “It’s lovely.”

“We, um, should probably be leaving,” he said, shuffling his feet. “It’ll be dark soon, and I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

The rain had subsided somewhat on their way back, though they decided to share Roy’s umbrella this time. It was a tighter fit than they had anticipated; neither pointed it out and she wordlessly tucked herself close to him as they moved. On the walk, he told her a story about a lost dog that stayed at his aunt’s place for a few months until its owners claimed it again, and she asked him question after question about what it was like to have a dog to care for. By the time they arrived home, they were smiling and red in the face, no longer aware of the biting cold.

\----

Something that Riza could never understand about Roy was his willingness to talk openly about nearly anything - the one subject he didn’t seem eager to discuss was exactly what his aunt’s business entailed, though she didn’t particularly feel a need to know. She had always been taught to stay quiet and keep her secrets close, but Roy had clearly not been raised the same way. His candidness frequently surprised her. One morning, when knocked on his door to wake him from what she assumed to be oversleeping, he told her to leave so he could finish doing something that turned out to be incredibly private - to his confusion, she couldn’t quite look him in the eye for the rest of the day.

His habit of brutal honesty also extended to areas that Riza had never dared speak to anyone about. A simple question about whether he missed his parents turned into an entire report of his family history. As it turned out, Roy didn’t have any parents to miss.

His father dropped out of school at the age of seventeen to become a laborer at the railway in Central City, where his older sister had moved a few years prior. Madame Christmas, who was still trying to establish a prosperous and reputable business for herself, had set him up with a one-room apartment a few blocks away from the slums. A few times a week, he would visit his sister’s business for a drink and a meal. During one of his visits, he met a half-Xingese woman that his sister had recently hired. He fell for her, and the two had a brief relationship that had resulted in her becoming pregnant. Roy’s father proposed to his mother, but unexpectedly left the city two months before he was born. When Madame Christmas was unable to contact him, she let Roy’s mother live indefinitely in one of the rooms upstairs. She took care of Roy in that room for a year until she passed away in an accident.

“After that, Madame Christmas raised me,” he had told her. “She’s not the most maternal woman, but she did her best. I turned out alright, at least.”

She never knew how to respond to stories like that, but he didn’t seem to mind. He would just smile that crooked smile of his and carry on as if nothing had happened. Maybe he didn’t actually need her to say anything; maybe he just wanted her to listen. As much as he perplexed her, she could at the very least do that for him. And, usually, her listening was enough for the conversation to shift back to something less personal. 

Until, that is, Roy decided to get Riza to open up, too. 

“My aunt says that my mom didn’t consider herself to be Xingese,” he said, caught up in some complex family story that Riza had lost track of a long time ago. “She didn’t get along with her dad, I guess? See, he was the one from Xing, and he disowned her for some reason when she was in her teens, so she decided she didn’t want to be linked to her dad’s ancestry. So that makes me Amestrian, I think - even though I’ve technically got some Xingese blood too. What do you think?”

“Me?” she asked. “I think you are a full Amestrian if that’s what you would like to be. It’s what your mother seemed to want for you, anyway.”

He grinned. “You think so? You don’t think it’s disrespectful to her family?”

“I don’t think I can decide that for you.”

“You’re right,” he said, stretching his arms so that his shirt rode up his stomach. “I just realized, you know, you’ve never told me much about your mom.”

Riza licked the corner of her lip. “My mother died when I was young. My father told you that.”

“Right, but what was she like?”

She clenched her jaw and looked at him tiredly. He seemed blissfully unaware of her discomfort, and was looking back at her with a painfully innocent patience. “My… my mother was gentle. She used to hold my hand and sing to me. I loved her. My father once said that I look like her. But that’s all I can remember.”

“It must be nice to have memories of her.”

“Yes.”

“Are her relatives still around? They must like to see you.”

“I have a grandfather. Grumman.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We don’t speak to him. My father cut off all contact with him after my mother died.”

“Shit. Did he do something wrong?”

“He’s a military man.”

“Oh,” he murmured. “Right.”

“My father said he didn’t want for us to be involved in senseless violence like that, so he told my grandfather to stay away.”

“Have you ever spoken to him?”

“Grumman? Of course not.”

He made a face. “I bet he misses you.”

“Perhaps,” she replied simply. “But it doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe you can see him someday.”

She nodded, letting out a long breath; she wasn’t going to tell him that she had no desire to form a connection with the man. Her father had told stories about Grumman; the man was a high-ranking and notoriously ruthless military official with a careless attitude, a poorly-concealed drinking problem, and an affinity for chasing after beautiful women far younger than himself. But she wasn’t going to share that part. She would let him hold on to the idea that there might be a happy ending to their story - that they would reunite someday and live as if they had never been kept apart. 

For some reason, whatever it was, he seemed to need that. 

\----

Late autumn arrived suddenly, making itself known with its characteristic frigid winds and skeletal trees. The pleasant days of soft sun and firey leaves were gone; grey skies and heavy blankets of snow were still some weeks away. To Riza, the country felt as though it were stuck in some strange purgatory, unsure of what to do with itself while it waited for the seasons to change. She hated it, but it wasn’t the worst thing about that time of year. 

Along with the stagnance came another inevitable occurrence - the miserable illness that always left her bedridden and entirely useless. It was easy to tell when it had arrived. She woke feeling foggy, almost as though she had found herself in one of those uncomfortably realistic dreams. Soon the fever, headache, and exhaustion would set in, and she would quietly excuse herself to her room with a jug of water and a cool cloth. Once a day, her father would bring up some medicine and tell her to rest before retreating to his office again.

But, this time, he hadn’t been to see her yet. 

That wasn’t like him. For all of the distance between them, he would always check on her when she was sick. She wondered if he had tried to see her, but she had been asleep. Then, of course, there was the possibility that he had become too caught up in his work to see her. Roy’s training was taking up more time than usual, and neither of them had left the office very much as of late. Because of that, it was entirely possible he wasn’t even aware that she was ill yet. Or, worse, he was unable to come see her because he was too sick to leave his own bed. If that was the case, she would need to try to see him, to make sure he was well taken care of. He was already in a poor state of health, and a him catching a fever like this would have serious consequences for all of them. 

Grabbing the bedside table, she shakily pulled herself to the edge of her bed. She sat up slowly, breathing heavily and shivering violently as she peeled layers of wool blankets away from pallid skin. She gritted her teeth and stood up. It wasn’t very far to her father’s room. She could make it there. Checking on him would only take a moment; if he was ill, surely Roy would be able to help. At the very least, he could contact a doctor to make sure her father would be alright. And, if nothing was wrong after all, she could just go back to bed and continue resting. All she had to do was make it to her father’s room. 

Her steps were slow and measured, and the floorboards creaked furiously with each careful step. By the time she reached his bedroom door, her head was swimming and her bangs were glued to her forehead by a layer of cold sweat. She braced herself against the doorframe with one hand and reached for the handle with the other. She fumbled with it, struggling to remember which way to turn the knob, before she realized that she couldn’t get in. The door was locked.

“Riza?” 

She looked over her shoulder to find Roy staring at her from just outside the bathroom door. “Riza?” he asked again, wiping his hands on his trousers as he jogged over to her. “Are you alright? What are you doing?”

“Sick,” she mumbled. Her own voice sounded so jarringly far away that she wasn’t even sure she was the one speaking. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” His hands hovered around her for a moment before pressing firmly against her shoulders. “I’m taking you back to bed. And I’m calling a doctor.”

“No,” she whined. “He needs me.”

“I don’t think anyone needs you right now.”

“He does. He might be sick.”

“Who?”

“My father.”

“Your father? No, he’s not sick. He’s in his office. He’s been caught up writing something, some kind of research he’s been working on.”

“He’s not sick?”

“No,” Roy said. “He’s okay. I promise.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s not worry about him right now.”

Riza blinked and sunk her head into the crease between Roy’s neck and shoulder. “I’m so tired,” she said hollowly.

“I know. Let’s go,” Roy said softly. A moment later she felt herself being scooped up into his arms. A small piece of her wanted to protest, to say that she could make it back herself. But she knew that it was a lie and that he wouldn’t give in anyway. So, she let her muscles relax and enjoyed a moment of weightlessness before he carefully laid her back down onto the mattress. 

He tucked her in somewhat awkwardly, apparently unsure of where it was alright to put his hands and how the blankets should be arranged. “Okay,” he said eventually. “I don’t think you should get back up again. I’m going to downstairs to call the doctor.”

She shook her head. “No. Don’t call.”

“Why? You’re sick.”

“The doctor is expensive. We can’t afford to call for something like this.”

Roy sighed. “Well, what if I go asked your father if it was alright?”

She shook her head. “We have medicine. Ask my father where it is. He usually brings it to me, but… would you do that?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Hang on, and I’ll be back soon.”

In the few minutes he was gone, she found herself swimming in and out of consciousness. The edges of her vision blurred and the room spun. It made her feel sick to her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched at the bedsheets, hoping to somehow steady herself. Unsurprisingly, it was no use. Her stomach lurched and she curled up into a ball. 

“Roy,” she cried. “Roy, I don’t feel well.”

Suddenly, hands cradled her and she felt herself drifting away again. Someone was speaking, telling her something that didn’t make sense. Then, a wave of blackness washed over her, and her body went limp. 

She woke the next morning to find Roy asleep on the floor, a thin sheet laid over him with arms tucked under his head and legs sprawled wide open. After a moment, she realized that he was snoring. She laughed and her head throbbed; a stabbing pain rushed through her neck upon sitting up to figure out what had happened. On the bedside table was a bottle of medicine and a hurried note explaining that a doctor had been called and had cared for her throughout the night. 

“Roy,” she said.

He stirred. 

“Roy, wake up.”

He blinked himself awake and smiled as his vision focused on her. “You’re alright. I’m so glad. I was so worried,” he slurred, eyes fluttering shut again. Within seconds, a loud snore erupted from his mouth. 

She lowered herself back down beneath the blankets. She would let him sleep, and she would do the same. They could talk later. For now, they needed rest.

\----

As soon as Roy turned sixteen, her father took an increased interest in him. According to Roy, he had deemed that an appropriate age to begin taking responsibility for a more advanced set of skills. He came galloping over to her to share the news, eyes bright with unbridled enthusiasm and smile wider than she had ever seen it. He took her hands and told her that it was finally happening, that he was finally going to learn the things he had aching to know. 

She squeezed his hands tight as he spoke, trying her hardest to return his excitement. Roy had desperately wanted to learn more useful and complicated alchemy, and after so many years of being bogged down in the basics he was allowed to move forward. She was proud of him, even happy for him, but she couldn’t feel the same excitement that he did. It was so cruel to be faking her way through this, to be so lost in her own selfish needs that she couldn’t share this moment with him.

More challenging lessons meant more hours spent in her father’s office, and that meant she would be left alone again. She had grown accustomed to her time with Roy. She needed his conversation, his kindness, his presence. He was her only friend, the only one who stood by her every day and let her feel like she mattered - let her feel like she was loved. 

If she was bolder, more reckless, she might have told him what she really wanted. She might have told him to stay with her, to let everything go and stay by her side so she wouldn’t have to endure the pain of their separation. But she couldn’t do that. She was selfish, sure, but not so selfish that she would steal his dream away from him. Staying silent was the only choice. Spending hours in excruciating quiet was the only choice. If this was what she had to sacrifice for him to be happy, then she would do it.

After all, that was what one did when they loved someone. 

And she loved him.

\----

The sun filtered in through the windows, making the house just as swelteringly hot as it was outdoors. Riza laid on her bed, body sticking to her sheets as she fanned lazily at her face. It wasn’t the kind of day to be doing things. Her brain felt as though it had been fried, and all she wanted was to stare at the ceiling until her sweat eventually cooled her down. Surely it would happen soon, based on the sheer volume that was dripping from her skin.

A knock pulled her from her daze and she craned her neck to look at the door. “Come in,” she called out, and Roy let himself in.

“Hey,” he said. “Damn, it’s even worse in here. You should come downstairs.”

“I would if I had the energy.”

“Fair enough,” he snorted, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying?” she asked.

“We ended early today. Heat’s making your father sick.”

“Is he alright?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s fine. Just needed to get some water and lay down. I’ll go check on him in a bit though.”

“Okay,” she said, relaxing. 

“Listen, I’ve been thinking,” he said quietly.

She huffed a laugh, a small and ticklish burst of air through her nose. “You’re always thinking about something, Roy.”

He smiled, but the crinkles at the corners of his mouth kept themselves contained. “I guess I am,” he replied, looking down at his hands. They were folded severely across his lap, but his fingers played with themselves in a show of the endless energy that always seemed to radiate from him. “Would you mind if I told you what I’ve been thinking about?”

“Sure,” she said, moving to sit down beside him. “What is it? Nothing bad, I hope.”

“No, it’s not bad. At least I don’t think it is.”

“Alright.”

“See… I’m nearly seventeen years old. I’m nearly old enough for people to consider me a grown man. But, sometimes I wonder how they’re supposed to do that if I spend all of my time sitting around like this.”

Riza cocked her head. “You’re not sitting around. You’re learning.”

“Yes, I know that,” Roy sighed. “And that’s exactly what I mean. I’m learning. I spend all of my time here, reading books and learning alchemical theory and taking your father’s exams when he decides the time is right. Riza, if I spend all of my time here just… just learning, then what am I actually accomplishing?”

“You’re losing me,” she said slowly. “Alchemy. You’re becoming an alchemist. That’s not nothing.”

He groaned and stood up, pacing away from the bed before turning back to face her. He had that look on his face, the one Riza had only seen once or twice. She used to believe it was frustration, or perhaps anger. Now, however, she knew better. That look had nothing to do with her or anyone other than himself. It was the look he got when his ambitions got the best of him, and it had nowhere else to go than to spill out through that terrifying expression.

“That’s the problem. It is nothing. It’s useless, and I can’t make anything of myself by simply learning it.”

“Don’t say that,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t treat this like a waste of time. My father has spent his entire life researching alchemy, and he isn’t useless. You wouldn’t know anything, if not for him.”

“I’m not…”

“You’re not, what?” she said, voice louder than she had expected.

“Forget it. It’s not important,” he said. “Can I just ask you something?”

She stared at him coldly. 

“What can I actually accomplish with just alchemy?”

“Lots of things,” she answered. “You can begin your own research. Maybe you could even become a teacher when you’re older. Or you can set up services to help people fix things. My father used to do that when I was younger. It made people very happy.”

Roy remained silent. 

“Didn’t you hear me? Those things aren’t nothing.”

“You’re right. They aren’t nothing. But I want more than that, Riza. I want to make a difference.”

“Who says you can’t make a difference doing any of those things?”

“Riza.”

“What?”

“I need to go away.”

“You…”

“I’ve been thinking about this for some time now. This isn’t me being rash, I promise.”

“Why do you want to leave?” she asked. She wanted to ask more, but the words felt tight and painful in her throat, as if they might choke her if she tried to say them aloud. She wanted to know if she had done something to drive him away, to make him believe that this home the three of them had made together was no longer enough. 

“Because there’s something I need to do.”

“What about your studies? You still have a lot to learn, you told me yourself -”

“I know I do, but I’m capable enough to do the rest on my own for now.”

“Okay, but why are you doing this? Where do you need to go?”

Roy looked at her, the fire that had been burning in his eyes almost entirely extinguished. “I’m enlisting in the Amestrian military academy.”

Her eyes widened.

“Before you say anything, please hear me out,” he said, taking a careful step towards her once she had answered with a firm nod. “I understand that your father doesn’t approve of the military, and I know that you don’t either. Trust me, I thought about that a lot. I don’t want to disappoint either of you. But it’s what I have to do. The military will give me opportunities I wouldn’t have anywhere else. I’ll meet important people, go to new places. I’ll get the chance to make a difference not just for a few people, but for the entire country. You know that’s what I’ve always wanted - to help people.”

“So, the last few years… was that all for nothing? Was alchemy just a silly hobby for you?”

“No, of course not,” he declared. “Riza, I can become a state alchemist someday. I’ll have privileges and research funding that the average alchemist could never even hope for. See? I can use my alchemy in a way that really matters. I can make your father proud.”

“My father could never be proud of you for this,” she croaked. “This isn’t what he wanted for you.”

“I know what he thinks about the military, but -”

“The military isn’t good, Roy. My father has known enough soldiers to understand what their work is like. You say you’ll be helping people, but you’ll also hurt people. Soldiers kill people when they’re told to, and they’ll tell you to kill people too.” 

“I… I won’t kill anyone. I promise.”

“You can’t make a promise when you know as well as I do that it’s a lie. I’ve read the papers. This conflict with Ishval… it’s spreading, and it’s only going to get worse. What will you do if they make you fight?” she asked, voice breaking. “I don’t want you to hurt anyone, or have someone hurt you.”

“Riza. Please don’t worry. Nothing will happen to me at the academy. I’ll be safe there. Maybe you’ll have to worry someday, because you’re right - that’s what soldiers have to do. But I’ll be okay for now. Don’t worry yourself yet. For me,” he pleaded. “For me, please don’t worry. I can’t… I can’t handle making you feel that way.”

She dug her nails into her palms. “You’re being selfish. If you don’t want to make me feel that way, then you shouldn’t do this. It doesn’t matter what you ask me, I’m going to worry about you because… because…” she stammered. “Because you’re important to me, Roy, and nothing you say is going to change the way I feel.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded.

“You’re a damn idiot, Roy,” she spat.

“I know,” he said. “I know I am.”

She buried her head between her knees, shaking as she tried to hold her tears back. The bed creaked and dipped beside her, and she felt Roy’s arm wrap around her. “I’m so sorry, Riza,” he said, defeated now. “I don’t know what to say other than that I’m sorry. And that I hope you won’t hate me for this. I know I couldn’t live with myself if you hated me.”

“I can’t hate you,” she mumbled. “I’m just… I don’t know anymore.”

His head rested itself on her shoulder, dark hair tickling her skin as he nuzzled himself as near to her as their bodies would allow. It was warm and sticky and deeply uncomfortable, but she didn’t care. He didn’t either. The pain of the heat was long forgotten, replaced by something deeper, something that wouldn’t go away as soon as the sun went down. It was something she had never felt before, and never wanted to feel again. 

A month later, he was gone. That feeling still hadn’t left; if anything, she found that it hurt more than ever.

**Author's Note:**

> \- hope you enjoyed this! it was my first time writing for these characters/fandom so i hope i did it justice  
> \- chapter title from "little talks" by of monsters and men  
> \- thank you to my friend kat for cheering me on and giving me feedback  
> \- you can find me on tumblr @machi-kuragi (and @eltheintrovert, but i don't do much there)


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